


Shiver

by Nixxi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Creepy Encounters in the Wilderness, Gen, Men Being Monsters, Sexual Harassment, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixxi/pseuds/Nixxi
Summary: “You’re dressed awful fancy for the middle of nowhere, boy.”Ignis looks up. There’s a man leaning on the column next to the gas pump, chewing on a long stalk of grass as he studies Ignis. Though perhaps it’s more of a leer. Yes, certainly—a leer. The sight of him immediately puts Ignis on edge.Daemons aren't the only things stalking the guys in the darkness.





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the drabble prompt "men being monsters."

“You’re dressed awful fancy for the middle of nowhere, boy.”  
  
Ignis looks up. There’s a man leaning on the column next to the gas pump, chewing on a long stalk of grass as he studies Ignis with rheumy eyes. Though perhaps it’s more of a leer. Yes, certainly—a leer. The sight of him immediately puts Ignis on edge. The man looks like he hasn’t had a proper bath in weeks—greying stubble peppers his greasy, dusty face, and his sweat-stained shirt hangs open to reveal a hairy chest and belly. He has one thumb hooked in his belt, casual.  
  
“We’re just passing through,” Ignis says, glancing at the counter on the gas pump and willing the Regalia’s tank to fill faster.  
  
“Uh huh.” Ignis can feel the man’s eyes crawling over him, appraising. “Sure you don’t wanna stick around for the night? I can make it worth your while.”  
  
Revulsion shudders down Ignis’s spine. There is no sum on Eos that could compel Ignis to go to bed with the likes of this man. He tamps down on his unraveling composure and glances at the store, where, through the windows, he can see Noct and Prompto browsing the aisles while Gladio pays for something at the cash. The sooner they finish up, the sooner they can put this dustbowl hovel in their rearview mirror.  
  
A hand comes down on top of Ignis’s—the one holding the nozzle—and he almost jumps out of his skin. It’s filthy and hairy, with crescents of dirt under the nails. Ignis has never been so glad for his driving gloves.  
  
“I’ll treat you right,” the man says, in a cajoling sort of tone, as his fingers stroke over Ignis’s knuckles. He flashes a grin, revealing a row of crooked, stained teeth. “Promise.”  
  
Ignis looks pointedly at the hand, then into the man’s eyes. “I’ll ask you to remove that before I do something you’ll regret,” he says coldly.  
  
The hand squeezes his, and there’s a moment of tense silence in which Ignis braces himself for an escalation. There’s an air of danger—of unhinged menace—about this man, and the Leiden outback isn’t known for the civility of its denizens. But then, to his relief, the man releases him and backs off. He keeps his eyes on Ignis as he retreats, his lips quirked in a lazy, crooked grin.  
  
By the time the others return from the store, he’s long gone, though Ignis can’t shake the feeling of unease he’s left in his absence.  
  


*  
  


Ignis wakes in the dead of night for no immediately discernible reason. The tent is quiet; the others are still asleep, Gladio snoring softly at his feet, laid out between the three of them and the flap. Outside, crickets chirp in the grass. Ignis checks his watch—12:45 a.m.—and lets out an exasperated sigh. It’s hours yet until dawn…  
  
…And he’s beginning to feel a pressure in his bladder.  
  
Quietly, he extricates himself from his sleeping bag, tiptoes over Gladio’s prone form, unzips the flap, and steps outside. The fire is still burning, casting an orange glow over the tent and their empty chairs, while the forest looms in darkness just beyond. He considers urinating over the edge of the haven, as they always do for safety’s sake, but then he hesitates. It’s an unsanitary practice, and there are no daemons prowling the perimeter of their campsite. Perhaps it would be safe to nip the twenty feet to the woods to relieve himself.  
  
As he’s descending the slope to flat ground, there’s a sudden movement in the darkness at the base of the haven. Ignis freezes, his breath catching in his throat. It isn’t a daemon. It’s a man, rising from a crouch where the slope meets grass, blocking Ignis’s exit.  
  
“You,” he says, taking a step backward. It’s the man who propositioned him at the Coernix earlier today. “What are you doing here?”  
  
The man grins, a manic gleam in his eye. There’s a knife in his hand. “Thought you could insult me and get away with it, did you, boy?”  
  
Ignis summons his daggers from the armiger, hoping they’ll dissuade the man from advancing any further. He’ll defend himself and his king if he must, but he’d rather avoid bloodshed. He’s never had to harm a person before.  
  
“Get back,” he says, loud enough that he hopes it will wake the others. “Was my warning at the Coernix station not clear?”  
  
Evidently not; the man keeps coming. It occurs to Ignis that this man might not be quite right in the head. If he’s followed Ignis here, then surely he must know Ignis isn’t alone, that he’s accompanied by three other men. Did he think he could get the jump in Ignis in the darkness? Prey on him while he was separated from the others? Or was he simply planning to stab them all to death while they slept in the tent?  
  
Ignis backs up into the haven, his palms sweaty where they grip his blades. Inadvertently, his hip bumps the edge of the food preparation table, and the dishes stacked on it crash to the ground. Before either of them can get another word in, Gladio comes staggering out of the tent in nothing but his boxer briefs, already wielding his great sword.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” he growls when he sees their intruder.  
  
Prompto and Noct emerge from the tent next, Prompto tripping over the pants he’s busy dragging on. “Whoa!” he says, evidently as surprised as Ignis to discover they’re not alone.  
  
“You okay, Specs?” Noct asks.  
  
“Yes,” Ignis says. He’s still staring at the man with all the coldness he can muster. “I was just asking this gentleman to leave.”  
  
“Get the fuck outta here,” Gladio says. He takes a menacing step forward, and to Ignis’s relief, the man retreats a little, the manic expression on his face slipping into uncertainty. “Don’t make me say it again.”  
  
The man’s eyes flick to Ignis again, and Ignis’s muscles tense. Is this stranger going to do something foolish even when he’s outnumbered four to one? He tightens his grip on his daggers, preparing himself for the worst, but then the man retreats further, until he disappears into the night. The four of them stand there and watch him go, only dismissing their weapons when they see tail lights come to life on the main road, a half mile away. Only relaxing when they disappear into the distance.  
  
The unease still lingers, though. Ignis keeps his eyes on the road, wondering if the man will return once they’ve all gone back to bed. Perhaps it would be best if he sat by the fire and kept watch until dawn.  
  
They’re quiet until Gladio says what they’re likely all thinking: “Never thought we’d have to worry about other people all the way out here.”


End file.
